


seams of my love (like constellation lines)

by chants_de_lune



Series: Post-Credit Scenes [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: After Action Patch Up, Angst and Feels, F/M, Healing, Heartache, Jealous Clarke, Oblivious Bellamy Blake, Unresolved Sexual Tension, becho mention (subtle)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 09:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14746031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chants_de_lune/pseuds/chants_de_lune
Summary: Clarke finds glass in Bellamy's back.(post 5x05)





	seams of my love (like constellation lines)

Madi noticed his injuries first. 

 

“Hey,” she said, tugging on Clarke’s sleeve. “The back of Bellamy’s jacket is kinda ripped up.”Clarke furrowed her brow, remembering how he had hovered over her during the glass storm.

 

“Is my med kit still in the back of the rover?” she asked.Madi nodded, scampering off to fetch it.Clarke scanned the makeshift camp until she spotted Bellamy.He was several yards away, talking with Miller…. and he had Echo by his side. 

 

A hard knot twisted in Clarke’s stomach, seeing a foe who had literally jumped on the wagon to their rocket escape, now someone cherished; it was the harshest reminder that six years had passed.

 

Clarke shut her eyes, her mind traitorously replaying the memory of Bellamy pulling her into his arms, rubbing her back tenderly.

 

_overthinking it, overthinking it.…_

 

“Got it,” Madi remerged, holding out the kit.Clarke took it, swallowing her swirling emotions as she walked over to a now-alone Bellamy. 

 

“Hi, uh—“ she floundered when he looked at her.“I checked everyone else with injures. I…I just have to check you too.” 

 

“I feel alright,” he murmured, turning around nevertheless.Clarke mentally berated herself for her clumsy choice of words, but she soon found the several small tears that Madi had seen. 

 

“Your back is scratched up, the skin could tear worse if—“ Clarke bit her tongue before the words _if I don’t treat it_ could slip out. 

 

Bellamy turned and looked at the med kit in her hands.“Mind helping me clean them?”He shrugged. “It’ll be hard for me to see.”

 

A lump formed in her throat, things felt so, so _off_ ,when they had been fine only yesterday.She looked around hesitantly, but Echo was nowhere in sight.“Alright,” she said hastily, “with no salvageable tents, we should use the back of the Rover.” 

 

Bellamy took off his jacket, and Clarke noticed his winces when he shrugged his shoulders.She opened up the back of the Rover, grateful to see that the group had not moved her bedroll. As Bellamy tossed his jacket inside the car, Clarke peered at the back of his henley. 

 

_A few small tears, some blood, nothing that could’t be mended back at-_

 

She bit her lip, thinking about the lovely little creek she used for washing clothes back home.Her home which was festered with murderers. 

 

_I wanted you to see it so bad, but not like this…_

 

“How bad is it?” asked Bellamy.Clarke took a deep breath, forcibly settling herself into doctor mode. She pulled the hem of his shirt up slowly, searching for wounds.Well above the small of his back, there was a crisscross pattern of dried blood.

 

“It needs cleaning,”Clarke said evenly, “and I have to make sure there aren’t fragments caught in the epidermis.”Bellamy unfurled the bedroll before gingerly taking off his shirt, one sleeve at a time.Clarke pulled it off over his head, and folded it beside her kit.Her heart raced as she watched him lay down on his stomach, crossing his arms under his chin. 

 

This shouldn’t have been the first time she saw him like this.Not when he wasn’t hers to touch. 

 

Tearing her gaze away from his lithe form, she rummaged through her pack for a rag and a vial of rubbing alcohol.“This will sting,” she murmured, gently dabbing the rag over the broken skin.Bellamy did not wince or cry, but his shoulder twitched at the contact. 

 

The congealed blood gradually dissolved until Clarke could see five pink, narrow slashes, like constellation lines connecting the freckles on his back. 

 

“Good news, these are superficial, probably why you didn’t feel them at first. No stitches needed.”

 

“Bad news?” asked Bellamy, speaking for the first time in several minutes. 

 

“I still have to probe for any small pieces that might be embedded,” she said, tightening her jaw and trying not think that it would be easier to treat him if she were to straddle his hips.

 

If she were on the Ark, there would be tweezers and cotton swabs for this task, but she had to adapt without them. 

 

As her hands first began brushing against his back, Bellamy made an odd noise.Clarke snatched her hands away like his skin was aflame, ready to leave and find someone else to finish.Someone who would not be as affected as her. 

 

“Wait,” Bellamy turned to face her. “You shouldn't be reaching for glass with bare hands.” 

 

Clarke shrugged.“Only choice,” she said off-handedly.

 

Bellamy raised an eyebrow, and Clarke felt her cheeks warm at his recall.

 

“Just don’t want you pricking your fingers, Princess,” he said, smiling, then he added, “You might fall into a cursed sleep.” 

 

A soft laugh rose easily from Clarke’s chest.“I guess someone will have —“ she bit the inside of her cheek,holding back her wit.She could not say, _someone will have to kiss me_.That was flirting, and she could not flirt with him. 

 

“I guess I’ll take my chances,” she said in exchange as she started to palpate his skin. Anger surged in her stomach at the fact that he remembered her nickname. She wondered if he had other pet names - one for his lover perhaps - and her gut twisted sharply.

 

She sighed, focusing on the rhythmic press of her fingertips on his skin. She found two minuscule shards near the top of his spine, biting back a wincewhen she pried them off her fingertips.

She was more thorough than she probably had any right to be, given that people had most likely noticed their absence.She continued, her eyes occasionally fluttering shut as her hands moved over his warm, tawny skin. 

 

Over six years, she had let herself fantasize what it would be like to fall asleep in his arms, wake up still cradled.Now she imagined what it would be like to hold him close to her chest, heart to heart, and nuzzle into the softness between his shoulder blades, kissing the curve up from his back to the hardened contours of his arm. 

 

_You selfish, silly girl._

 

Clarke blinked back tears, wiping away a stray one before it fell onto his back.Sweeping his shoulder blades one more time, she redoused the rag with alcohol.“Okay, I’m sure I got all of it. Heads up, I’m cleaning again.” 

 

She was not sure why she felt the need to warn him, they read each other effortlessly earlier that day.She sat back on her heels.His back was clean, and it would heal without scarring.Her eyes caught on a few scars — barely perceptible — slanting on his spine.

 

_From Mount Weather_ , she thought grimly, and she prayed that his soul had healed as well as his skin. 

 

“Anything else?”asked Bellamy.Clarke chided herself for idling, he wanted to go back to the group, to _her_ , no doubt. 

 

“Just a salve to help seal the cuts, I don’t think bandages are a necessity,” she said, quickly opening a small pot of a paste made from honey and aloe.She massaged it into his skin, and Bellamy emitted a soft sound between a growl and a purr.Clarke shut her eyes, willing herself to un-hear it. But like every temptation, it lingered in her memory, taunting desires which had been dormant for ages. 

 

“Alright,” she said, leaning back. “I think you’re good.” 

 

Bellamy rolled over and inspected the damage on his henley, one hand casually reaching to rub his back.Clarke felt her cheeks burn harder.Bellamy was ready to dress when his eyes caught sight of her fingertips, stained red from his blood and black from her own.He sighed, taking her hand before she could protest. He rubbed her fingertips gently with the hem of his shirt, wiping away their mingled blood.

 

“What did I say about pricking your fingertips…” he said in a low voice, too gentle for her to enjoy without guilt. She withdrew her hand quickly, dipping her fingers in the salve as he got dressed. 

 

“Well, let’s hope there’s clear skies on the way back,” he said, looking up at her.“Cause I am not doing that again.”

 

The casual words felt like glass shattering in Clarke’s heart, and she averted her eyes.

 

“Hey,” Bellamy’s voice went soft again, “I meant that stupid huddle.”

She looked back at him, feeling shame at seeing the concern in his eyes. “Yeah, of course,” she said, distracted as she packed up her kit. 

 

“Clarke,” he said, reaching as if to pat her on the thigh, but then settling for a simple arm touch.“You’re amazing, and we’d be screwed without you.”He paused for a moment, then added, “Thanks.”

 

She managed a smile.“Of course. Anytime.”

 

He nodded to her earnestly before jumping out the back and pacing away.Clarke watched him leave, a heavy feeling growing in her chest.

 

“Oh Bellamy,” she whispered, “I think _I’m_ the one who’s screwed.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!! 
> 
> I hope you liked reading this. I was going to add it as a chapter to Curse that Moonshine, but I felt it was poignant enough to stand as its own oneshot. Please drop a comment down below! Feedback feeds my motivation :)


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